Consummation
by StarWalker42
Summary: My take on Mulder and Scully's first time. Probably some time around Season 7, but not a specific episode. MSR, Smut, RST


Summary: My take on Mulder and Scully's first time. Probably some time around Season 7, but not a specific episode. MSR, smut, RST.

Disclaimer: I don't own The X-Files, or these characters.

A/N: This is only the second smut I've ever posted on anything, and I don't talk about the first one because reading it back makes me wince. But, yeah, I decided to give this a go, and now may or may not have way too many ideas waiting in the back of my mind... I hope you enjoy, and please drop a comment if you do! (Also please feel free to be as happy as I am that the actual story itself is exactly 4500 words. I am ridiculously proud of that.)

* * *

 **Consummation**

 _'All our guilt, fear, and even our mortality can be purged in a perfect consummation with perfection itself.'_

-Ernest Becker

They sit on the carpet, side by side, at the foot of her bed, and it's almost midnight but she can't imagine sleeping any time soon.

The case has been horrible, for both of them. It's Friday, but Skinner told them to take today and the rest of the weekend off, so they've been at her apartment all day. Neither will say it, but they can't let the other out of their sight yet.

Scully can't even remember how they got here, or how long they've been sitting for, but she doesn't want to move. She doesn't want Mulder to move, either. She wants to stay here in the middle of the night where the past doesn't seem to exist and time itself is a non-reality, never moving or thinking, just knowing he's here. When did she become so dependent on him? So desperate for his safety?

"I should go," Mulder says suddenly. "It's late."

Consequences don't seem real in this darkness, either, and she's tired and vulnerable, so she doesn't say 'okay' and see him out, she just whispers, "Don't."

"Scully-"

"Please, Mulder. Stay."

He turns to face her in the shadow, and even though she can't see much more than his profile she knows he's meeting her eyes. There's concern in his face. Concern for her, and concern for whatever rules they may be breaking, intentionally or otherwise.

"You can sleep on the couch, just stay."

He nods once, fractionally. He wants the closeness as much as she does.

Their hands brush against each other as she gets up to turn the bedside light on, and they both pretend it's accidental. The light is diffused and gentle, soothing rather than harsh, calming her nerves and worries a little.

Until she turns around. Now she can see him better, and it makes her heart ache. He's even more haunted than usual, his muscles tense, staring off into some unseen distance.

"Mulder."

He turns to look at her, and she sees the tiredness and pain in his face, which she's sure is reflected in her own. Her feet carry her to the foot of the bed, where she sits, in front of Mulder, so desperate to touch his hair, his face, his whole body, desperate to throw her arms around him and hold him as long as she can.

Mulder is uncharacteristically hesitant to meet her eyes, mainly because exactly the same urges are going through him. He wants to wrap her up and keep her safe, although she doesn't need him to and would never let him. They're both so bad at expressing their emotions, even worse at knowing how to respond to each other's pain, and under normal circumstances they would have ignored all of this and he would be gone by now. But they haven't, and he's not, and there is no established protocol between them for this.

But consequences aren't real.

They move at the same time, but don't hesitate or draw back, just keep going, turning off internal protests until they're holding each other, eyes closed and breathing each other in. Mulder's nose brushes Scully's ear through her hair and he nuzzles deeper; she does the same, spreading her legs a little so he can move closer.

Mulder wraps his arms around her, and Scully's suddenly overwhelmed by how much he envelops her, how secure she feels being held by him. She buries her face in his neck and- _oh_ \- gasps a little as he kisses just under her jaw, his lips right against her pulse point.

It doesn't necessarily hint at anything more than comfort and reassurance, but at midnight, in golden lamplight, when he's pressed this close to her… she's almost scared by what it suggests. Almost.

"Mulder." It's barely a whisper on her lips.

"Scully?"

Can he hear her uncertainty? Or is he just feeling as unsure as her about how this might go?

She pulls away from him, though it's one of the hardest things she's ever had to do, and they finally lock gazes. There's definitely worry in his eyes. Fear, almost, about what this might lead to. She could still ask him to go. Nothing's happened yet. They could just revert back to their usual way of dealing with things and go to their separate beds, in their separate apartments, go back to work on Monday and forget this ever happened.

But tonight, that doesn't feel possible.

Not with the desire and need in Mulder's eyes, the way Scully's hands tremble as they move to cup his jaw, the touch of Mulder's fingers on the small of her back. No. Tonight, separation is not possible.

They confirm it with this, something they haven't done or even talked about since New Year's: a kiss, gentle and innocent, nothing more than they shared in the first few seconds of this year. It feels different this time, though. Heavy with implications and meaning.

There's a pause when they draw back, Mulder watching Scully's tongue flick out absent-mindedly and wondering if she finds his taste as addictive as he finds hers. Then she looks at him, and he's so caught off guard by the intensity in her expression that he doesn't notice for a start that her hands are at her hips until she's got the hem of her jumper and is pulling it up and off.

As she leans back and brings the fabric over her head, she can feel her heart pounding, feel her mind beginning to race along with it. This isn't right. They're breaking so many rules of FBI procedure, they'll be suspended for good if anyone finds out, what if this isn't what he wants, what if he's just going along with this… but she wants this. She needs this. Needs _him_ , here, now. So she keeps going.

Mulder's eyes widen as she discards the jumper, and even though she's worn less in front of him before and she trusts him more than anyone else in the world, she still feels herself blush in momentary shyness.

He looks up, hearing her heavy breaths, and meets her eyes. "You okay?"

"Yes. _Yes_." She repeats, heaving herself out of her downwards spiral of thoughts.

He sits up on his knees and places his hands on the bed either side of her hips. His voice is heavy with a wonder he usually saves for the unexplained. "You're so beautiful."

She kisses him then, slow and deep with her hands in his hair and the heat of his body pressed against hers. Those words do things she can't even comprehend to her emotions; the reverence in his voice is awe-inspiring in itself, and he's making her feel like the answer, every answer, to every question ever, like a goddess, like... like his everything.

Tears spring to her eyes and she's glad he can't see them.

"You make me feel beautiful," she whispers to him, hoping to convey the same feelings back.

He leans back and his thumbs brush her hips, bringing a whole new rush of warmth through her. There is a gentle smile on his face, but she can see his eyes shining with his own unshed tears.

"Mulder?" She asks quietly, and he looks so deeply into her soul that for a moment she can't breathe.

Then: "Make love to me."

His little gasp is so hot it's unbelievable, and she feels her heart hammer faster as she too realises the gravity of what she's said. What she's been wanting to say for so long. For a long moment Mulder keeps his eyes squeezed shut, and he swallows noticeably before looking at her again.

"You're sure?"

Her hand cups his cheek and she traces circles over his skin as he watches her with an intensity which leaves her lost for words. Mulder's always had the ability to leave her speechless, but never quite like this. This is awestruck speechlessness, the kind where she has no words because none seem adequate enough to describe her feelings.

Normally they resort to talking with their eyes during times like this, but right now even that fails to encapsulate everything going through her heart and her mind. So she reaches behind her and unclasps her bra.

Mulder gasps again, but manages to keep his eyes open, not yet dropping them from her face. Instead he tugs his T-shirt off, and then his chest is bare and beautiful and glowing before her, and she can feel the heat of his body even at this distance.

She pulls him in for another kiss, running her hands over his shoulders and then up to tangle in his hair.  
His tongue slides against hers, wet and hot, and she draws him closer as she rakes her teeth over his lower lip, inviting him deeper. Mulder's hand drift up to her waist, his fingers tickling her spine. His touch is so familiar there but also so new, so different, that it sends sparks through her whole body. God, they've barely got started and she can already feel herself aching for him.

Mulder pulls her closer and she feels a whisper of his arousal against her thigh, through his jeans. She moans a little into his mouth.

He pulls back to place a kiss to her jaw, then rubs his cheek against it, the stubble grating her skin just enough to make her shiver. Then he's at her neck, moving his mouth down to her shoulder, kissing and sucking all the way. His hands trail up and down her arms, relaxing her, calming her through touch alone, like he always has. She wasn't aware she'd been shaking, but now she is, and she forces herself to stop.

It's just Mulder. Just Mulder.

(Of course, Mulder isn't 'just' anything, ever, and that's the problem, but still.)

She gasps as he reaches her clavicle, sucking on her skin. Mulder whimpers back and pushes himself off the floor, lying her back onto the bed and propping himself up above her.

It takes more effort than it should to look up into his eyes, still scared of what she might find reflected there. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, even as he smiles at her in that gentle, teasing way that only Mulder can pull off, and Scully feels the emotion rolling off of him in waves, so strong she is almost swept away by it.

He lowers his head to her chest, kisses the skin over her racing heart. His hair tickles her neck; she runs her fingers through it again, with no real purpose. She loves his hair. She always has. And now she has the opportunity to touch it as much as she wants, without making up some terrible excuse like head trauma to do so. Mulder raises his head to look into her eyes again, and she instantly misses the warmth of his breath on her exposed skin.

"Scully…"

In his voice is everything he doesn't need to say- fear, love, concern, heartbreak, trust, a million other things besides- and it almost reduces her to tears. She has never been this emotional when making love. Ever. But then everything with Mulder is different- as if the definitions of emotions and actions that she'd created long ago weren't valid anymore, as if with him completely new words were needed altogether.

She is not a linguist. She knows enough German to get by, and knows every Latin medical name under the sun, but she doubts that any language has words for what she's feeling right now. She's not surprised Mulder's in the same position.

"I know," she says quietly. "I know."

He kisses her again, light and gentle enough to pass as a kiss between friends, and rests his forehead on hers. They share breaths for what seems like eternity, and then he chuckles softly.

"What?"

"I'm just having a hard time believing that this is happening."

She tries to keep a straight face but fails, and soon she's giggling, and he's the one looking confused.

" _What_?"

"A 'hard' time?"

Mulder smirks. He laughs along with her, kissing and nuzzling every part of her face and neck, the tension finally beginning to leave his body. This is her favourite side of Mulder, even if it can get annoying as hell sometimes. He's playful, childish, and the darkness is lifted from him. If she could, she'd keep him like this forever.

"You're so immature, Scully."

"Mmm," she replies non-committally, her brain unable to conjure up much more when his stubble is caressing her skin in _that way_.

"I love you," it tumbles out of his mouth unbidden.

She pushes his head away and looks at him for so long he can hear the silence pulsing in the air around them, feel it like a living presence. It's almost disconcerting, but he doesn't regret saying it. He feels so much lighter now it's out there, and if he doesn't tell her here and now when is he going to?

Scully's eyes are shining. A single tears escapes, and he thumbs it away before kissing her cheek with a gentleness that only makes her more emotional.

"Don't… you don't need to say it back," he whispers finally. "I just needed to say it."

"I… I don't think I know…" she laughs. "Mulder, I've never felt like this with anyone else. _Anyone_. I want to call it love, but if this is love it scares the shit out of me."

She can feel her cheeks heating up, and not just because of the look he's giving her. She seriously, seriously, needs to get better at foreign languages. Or maybe she should just read poetry. Surely _someone's_ put this into words. Then again, she's always relied on Mulder being the eloquent one. Mulder…

"What does it feel like? To you."

Anyone else, he'd be thinking this was a test. With Scully, it's just a normal question, a topic they could debate like any other. Granted, most of the time when they're discussing these sorts of things they're not half naked on her bed, and she's not so obviously glaringly beautiful it makes him want to cry, but this is definitely something he could get used to.

"I don't know. Sort of all over. I just…I feel like…"

He doesn't want this to sound sappy, or too much like a romance novel (not that Scully reads those, anyway), but there's only one thing he can say, and it's the most sentimental bullshit he's ever heard, from anyone or himself. But he means it. Damn, he means it.

"When I'm with you, I'm complete," he manages, having to drop his eyes. "I feel right."

She's silent for an eternity. When he finally summons the courage to look back up at her she's smiling through tears, and quotes himself back at him.

"You've made me a whole person."

He nods, breathing easier. She understands. She understands and…

"Mulder…I love you. So much."

His heart clenches and he kisses her, and they're both crying now but it's okay, it's okay, they both know and they feel the same and…nothing, nothing, _nothing_ has ever felt this good. Scully traces his shoulder blade and whispers against his lips.

"You should write greetings cards."

"I wouldn't be any good at them," he smiles back, thumbing away her tears. "I save all my one liners for you."

And then there they are again, beaming at each other, all worries and emotions out of the way this time, and he finally feels ready. Scully is underneath him with her shirt off and he wants nothing more than to bury himself inside her, to prove that what he's said is true, that he will love her forever, mind, body and soul. He's interrupted from his thoughts when she raises an eyebrow with a knowing smirk.

"Oh. That's my penlight."

"You bring your penlight to bed with you?"

He resumes nuzzling her neck. "Only when there's something that needs investigating."

"I'm reconsidering my greeting cards comment." Scully groans, then gasps in pleasure and grips his shoulders, urging him on.

Lowering his head, he nips gently at her collarbone, testing her. At her soft moan of encouragement he sinks his teeth further until she's gasping his name and scraping her fingernails through his scalp. The noise does nothing to help with his arousal, and he snakes his hand up to palm her breast, intent on creating a similar effect again.

He's not disappointed.

She arches into him, unearthly sighs of pleasure escaping her lips, and before he realises it he's urged on by her and taking her nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking while her scent wraps around him so completely it's stifling.

Scully's hands drop from his shoulders and he realises with a jolt that she's trying to take off her trousers, her hands fumbling with a zip she can't see. He hesitates but reaches to help her, and she makes a decidedly un-Scully-esque sound, a combination of a wordless plea and a moan of arousal, when she feels his hands there.

This is it. If they weren't at the point of no return already, this will most certainly take them into that territory. There's no time to think too much about the repercussions, however, because his body continues to act on its own accord, pulling Scully's trousers down her toned legs until they're completely off and discarded at the foot of the bed.

He latches back onto her nipple, but she's not done- she reaches for his waist, and her little hands so close to his aching groin send another surge of passion through him. If they don't hurry this up, he's not going to last anywhere near long enough. He needs to get his jeans off. It's difficult- he can't manage to make his mouth leave her breast, and the position is too awkward and her arms are too short to do the job of undoing his belt.

"Mulder," she laughs breathlessly, "Get your pants off."

He complains wordlessly but does so, unbuckling and sliding the material down his legs as fast as he can. He can't take the extra few seconds to take his boxers off; he's back at her neck, coaxing out that noise again, and there's a lot less between him and her hips now as she bucks against him.

"Oh my god, Scully," he pushes her down onto the bed with one hand on her waist, and flashes her a smile. "Don't do that."

"It's kind of hard not to when you're doing- oh, Mulder…"

With his free hand massaging one breast, he uses his mouth again, flicking his tongue and nipping gently with his teeth when her fingers come up to wrap in his hair. He's too scared of hurting her to be too rough, but after all this time even the slightest touch is enough to make her body respond. Hell, he could probably _talk_ her into climax right now.

She's suddenly unable to think about that- unable to think about _anything_ \- when he demonstrates what else his mouth can do, trailing his tongue down to her stomach and pressing kisses against her trembling skin, getting dangerously close to the area now burning with her need for him.

She rolls her hips as a reflex, and judging from the low moan that escapes his lips he's almost as desperate as her to hurry this up.

"God, Scully…"

Even from here, he can smell her arousal- heady and feminine, the most heavenly perfume, threatening to drive him insane with need. Her head falls back and her eyelids flutter as his breath dances over her, and for a moment he can do nothing but watch her face, flushed and absolutely exquisite, and her mouth, slack and wet from kisses. She has never looked so stunning.

He has a sudden desire to touch the damp patch between her legs, to run his mouth over her and taste her until she can't get enough, so he lowers his mouth and presses a kiss to the centre of her panties. She is soaking, and he can taste her even through the fabric, wanting nothing more than to give her as much pleasure as possible. But her moan and the beautiful taste of her is _it_ for him, he is so far gone it takes everything he has not to let go right then and there-

"I can't-" he whispers, his voice coming out as a hoarse croak.

"Then get up here," she urges him, pulling his head up for another long, deep kiss which flips the world upside down around him and leaves his brain scrambling for footing.

Together they pull off their underwear and then his body is pressed so fully against hers it's hard to breathe. She's warm and soft and feels like herself but magnified ten times over, so much so he thinks he could drown in her right now.

He's never wanted to do anything more.

"Hi," she whispers, kissing him again, lightly.

"Hi," he replies, rubbing his nose against hers. She giggles when he moves over to her ear, kissing her there fleetingly before asking the question.

"Ready?"

"God, yes."

He steels himself before reaching down to touch her, moaning uncontrollably anyway as his hand comes into contact with her wet heat and he parts her slippery folds. She gasps his name and tries to keep his hand there, guiding his touch upwards towards her clit; he pulls away instead and kisses her, silencing her protests.

Carefully, he eases just the head of him into her, and that alone is enough to almost send him over the edge. But Scully immediately grips his ass and pulls him deeper, until half of his shaft is inside of her, and her head falls against the pillows as she whimpers.

She's so, so wet, and the feeling of her around him is so incredible, that he doesn't know how he's holding it together. Her walls are stretching and he knows she needs time to adjust (which is good, because right now so does he), so he kisses her and touches her breasts while they both get accustomed to this new closeness.

Mulder seems to know exactly what she needs, and is so tender and considerate that she's almost surprised before remembering that she hadn't expected any different. Over the years, she's had many fantasies about him, about _them_ , about this moment. In some he was fiery, desperate, almost feral; in others passive and quiet, brooding over something only he could understand. Deep down, though, she'd always known he would be like this- caring, and patient, with a healthy mix of all the other elements of his personality: his passion, his humour, his single-minded determination and the same precious trust he had granted to her all those years ago.

It feels unbelievable to finally be here, to be this close and entwined. It's the purest experience she can remember, better than anything she could've ever imagined. It takes her breath away.

"Scully," Mulder says finally, "I'm dying up here."

She gives a long, slow exhale, relaxing her inner muscles, then meets his eyes and smiles.

"Then move it, G-man."

Gritting his teeth, he pushes until he's all the way inside her, then slowly withdraws, his weight on his forearms on either side of her head. She gasps and he can't help but moan a little back, overwhelmed by the warm, tight confines of her body. He thrusts his hips again, slightly faster, and she pushes her own back against him in sync, spreading her legs wider. Soon they're moving together, rhythmically and forcefully, grunting as the pressure builds between them.

All too soon, Mulder can feel himself approaching the edge, and he buries his face into Scully's neck to feel her heartbeat and her scent and her skin surrounding him, desperate to be as close as possible. Her right hand grips his neck, urging him on, and he hears her gasping something in-between thrusts. He hesitates for a moment, worried she's in pain, or he's doing something wrong, or she's changed her mind (god, Scully, please don't change your mind-) but as soon as he slows down her free hand presses to his back and a desperate 'don't stop' leaves her lips, so he resumes his pace.

He must do something right because she starts to gasp again, whimpering indistinct words before her nails dig in to his muscle with a cry.

"Mulder, please."

Hearing her so desperate nearly sends him over the edge before he can prevent it, but by some miracle he manages to hold on those crucial few seconds and drops his hand to her clit, rubbing quick circles as she begins to tense up. He can't hold on any longer and lets himself go, distantly feeling her contracting and shaking around and underneath him as he does so.

When he becomes aware of his surroundings again, he's collapsed on the bed, his head resting on Scully's shoulder as she caresses his hair. Her pulse thrums beneath him, and he can feel as much as hear her breaths, still rapid and heavy but beginning to stabilise. He turns his head and kisses her collarbone, glistening with sweat.

He's tempted to comment in his usual off-hand way, maybe with a 'where were we', or something along those lines, but the surge of emotion going through him is apparently making him less witty than usual.

"I love you," he whispers instead, wrapping his arms around her, still marvelling at how _tiny_ she can seem against him.

"I know."

"Nice one. Here I was thinking we'd get through coitus without a pop culture reference."

"Shut up, Mulder." She laughs, and pulls him up for a kiss.

This is different from anything they've shared before, somehow, not frantic or hesitant or even overflowing with love, just… just a kiss. The connotations of that make Mulder's head spin. He and Scully are kissing, just because they can. Because they want to. And that feels just as good as anything else that's just happened.

She draws back and bumps his nose with hers.

"That feeling you said you get when you're with me?"

He nods, his heart swelling with such brilliant affection that it's overwhelming.

She kisses his cheek and then slides down so she can tuck her head under his chin. "I know how it feels."

Mulder pulls her closer to him and kisses the top of her head, trying to remember everything about this moment. He's never been so happy, or felt so safe. And he's about to tell Scully this, but she's already half asleep, fighting to keep her eyes open. Mulder kisses her again and fixes the blanket around her more securely, startled by the way she melts against him, draping her arm over his chest.

"I love you." He whispers.

She's asleep, but he doesn't need her to say it back. She already has done, in a million and more ways.


End file.
